The Ghosts and Mr Scrooge
by ChernobylGhost
Summary: The legend of Harry Potter is about to be found out by a most desperate Wizarding World, and not even Severus can save Harry from becoming his own man. Will Severus be able to stand the new changes in His Harry? Severus POV, HPSS, SSRL friendship.
1. My Confession

Summary: Sequel to Old Scrooge, Tiny Tim's Wish, and Scrooge Versus the Mistletoe. The legend of Harry Potter is about to be found out by a most desperate Wizarding World, and not even Severus can save Harry from becoming his own man. Will Severus be able to stand the new version of His Harry? Severus POV.

a/n: This will be longer than all the rest, and I'm not sure how long that exactly is. If you enjoy this, tell me so with a review, perdy please.

_"Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind-_  
_stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping,_  
_scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and_  
_sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out_  
_generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary_  
_as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features,_  
_nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek,_  
_stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue;_  
_and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice."_

- A Christmas Carol, Stave 1: Marley's Ghost

-.-

T h e G H O S T S & M r. S C R O O G E

He is nervous; I can sense it as he stands next to me. There is not much I can do to help but wrap my arm tighter around his shoulders and offer a whispered bit of encouragement.

He is so frail under my touch, I cannot believe he is so young. He is too young for this, to be sure, but it's what's been doled out to him by the high-and-mighty one. I myself know the story of destiny and all the wonders it brings, joyous and horrifying. I do wish for all of his horror taken care of now, after his surgery and recovery.

The wonders.

My breath and his visibly mix in the chilled air outside the hospital, and that rather than the cold makes me shiver.

Never have I felt such positive excitement, apart from my reunion with my Harry. We are together now for keeps and I almost feel exhilarated enough to ignore my duties at Hogwarts. But, I have no wish for Albus to come looking for me either. His capacity for disappointment is great enough to fell a giant.

For keeps.

My Harry curls into my side with a gentle sigh, and I feel myself melt again because of him. When did I become such a feeling person? When and _why_?

Can one person cause this, this... new penchant for caring? When was the last time the surly Potions master was kind enough to worry for someone other than himself? This is the question I have tried to answer for the whole while of being frozen nearly to bone on the street.

The question.

My Harry stands next to me, just waiting for me to point out the right direction, and I have none to give! If I am so unused to caring, then why do these challenges come for me and no one else? How can others care so easily and receive love in such large amounts but have obstacles so minute when compared to mine? I have tried, _why_ do I not receive the same as them? Forgetting my offences, why am _I_ the doomed one?

So easily.

"Severus?" questions my Harry, and I glance down without moving my head.

"Hm?" replies I with a false air of aloofness.

"Which way are we going?" My Harry looks left and right as if there might be some sign with the words 'this way to your new life.'

In my mind, I cringe, but outside I glance back up at the busy streets, hoping that I will catch a glimpse of that very same sign. Left or right, which is the way to go?

Down the right lane were beggars, and to the left, wealth sparkled from the washed windows. Which is better, the dangerous, accepting path, or the safe but alien one? Hmm, why not? I have stood those stares before, have I not? Between those stares and informing my Harry of the concept of magic, this should be a relatively terrible morning.

Those stares.

I prepare for the worst as I turn to the left lane.

"Excuse me," rumbles someone from behind.

Turning, I see that is Kingsley, the former Auror, who is trying for my attention, and I send a scowl to show my displeasure at seeing him. Albus will have sent him after me, that much is for sure. That man spends far too much of his time appeasing that ol' one-eyed monster, Moody. I can only imagine what the man accuses me of while I am away and injured. Proper manners were never his forte, in my experience.

"Yes?" growls I with my fierce tone.

"Ah, I thought it was you, Severus. Been a while," hints Kingsley, though only I understand his meaning.

"Yes, well..." says I unhelpfully.

I notice that Kingsley isn't ruffled by my reply. Damn man never seems shaken by anything, surprising or not.

"Everyone's been asking after you," nudges the man a little farther.

The probability of anyone other than Albus actually being concerned is slim, and I narrow my eyes at Kingsley for even suggesting otherwise.

"I bet they are," is my reply, stiff and stony.

"The work building's pipes sprung a leak," continues he cryptically, and I unconsciously lean forward to hear more. "They're searching for the source, but there's been no luck. If the... leak isn't patched up soon," his voice becomes perceptibly more serious, "then the place'll have to be shut down permanently."

I am set to Apparate right then and there for the man surely is speaking of Hogwarts, but I catch myself with an awkward glance down at Harry, still under my arm. My fingers itch to grab my wand and simply spout the entire story without stopping for breath, though not being a fan of babbling idiots, I stop before I can allow myself such shame.

Entire story.

Harry gives me an inquisitorial kind of look, and I long to have the moment over and done with. Somewhat thankfully, I hear Kingsley clear his throat deliberately.

Done with.

Kingsley gestures to Harry, and my arm tightens just slightly, as if he may be taken from me.

"A friend of yours, Severus?" asks he, and from only one other person would I believe the question sincere and not a joke at my expense.

Reluctantly I introduce my lover.

"This is Harry," says I simply, daring him to judge me.

To only half my surprise, he does not appear to do so. He gives a polite nod to my Harry and says his name as well.

"Will Harry be joining us at... ah, work?" asks he of me.

"Yes," replies I with a tone of finality, and I see my Harry smile beside me.

"I was just heading there myself... shall we go together?" questions Kingsley, gesturing down the rich man's street.

My Harry tugs on the back of my coat, and I glance down to see him nod excitedly. I force my sigh to be quiet since I know I cannot refuse him even the smallest bit of happiness so early after leaving the hospital. He makes me so weak-willed; my younger self would not recognize me now. In fact, I fear it would balk at me if it had the chance.

"Yes, we shall travel together. First, however, we must find somewhere quiet to... discuss some things."

"Of course," agrees Kingsley. "I believe there is a pub down here... the Leaky Cauldron, if I'm not mistaken."

"Terrific," mutters I, and Harry frowns lightly.

I nudge him a little to get him moving, and we are off. Kingsley, my Harry, and I make an odd trio going up the street. There are a few decorations still up around the town proclaiming a Happy New Year to all. The sight is absolutely sickening, but my Harry seems to enjoy it immensely. His first time out of that place in years and I must be the one to ruin it with tales of magic he is surely not to believe of me.

Enjoy it.

Perhaps I should wait... No, no, I know that to be a very unwise thing to do. He will surely call me on it later, if I were to do such a thing as postponing the inevitable. Any sensible person would, of course.

Sparkling jewels, short skirts, and sneers were not to be missed from any direction. I sneer right back at them, but I do not have the clothes or hair to back it up with. They may have material reasons for their haughtiness, but I use the knowledge that I am a superior fighter and ten times stronger than those I see who disapprove of me. I have absolutely no problem believing myself five floors higher than anyone within sight; the sacrifices I've made have got to be worth something, and that is it. My own personal glory will suffice for now.

Personal glory.

I notice that Harry is having trouble hiding his gawking. It is not the most appealing of expressions, but since he is new to the world again, I don't think now is the time to correct him.

Correct him.

This world will not even exist for him soon. Being so far removed from the action of the Muggle world, he will have little to compare to the magical one. He shall catch on very quickly this way, that I am sure of.

I will perform for him a few spells to prove magic to him, encourage his sanity for good measure, and then I shall tackle whatever trouble there is at the castle. Surely, things could not have gotten so terrible within so little time. It most surely will seem horrendous to the more simple wizards of the castle, but McGonagall is more than capable of calming the teachers and, in turn, the students. The absolute worst would be an overthrow of the place, but I know Albus to have more sense than to _wait_ before calling for help from every single person he possibly could, both human and creature.

"Here we are," comments Kingsley with the quick point of a finger.

The sign is creaking more than usual, and the windows looked dirtier than they have ever been. I am sure there is something different about the place since I have last seen it only weeks ago. I simply cannot put my finger on what exactly is off, however.

Only weeks.

My Harry is clutching my coat a bit tighter as if he can feel something wrong as well, even though that is absolutely preposterous. I catch a frown on Kingsley's face as he reaches for the door handle but stops just short of touching it. He senses it too.

Bit tighter.

I shiver and feel Harry do the same. Kingsley pulls out his wand, and I make no move to stop him. Holding Harry with my left arm, I also find my weapon.

Feel Harry.

_Breath_. I see Kingsley's before mine and know that the creatures must be inside the pub itself where witches and wizards are meant to be conversing and indulging.

"Close your eyes," commands I in the next second, and I do not look down to be sure.

Kingsley gives me a nod and pops out of sight. I am gone a moment later in the blink of an eye.

The wonders.

For keeps.

The question.

So easily.

Those stares.

Entire story.

Done with.

Enjoy it.

Personal glory.

Correct him.

Only weeks.

Bit tighter.

Feel Harry.

We appear in a place so familiar, yet oh so different to the one I left.

The grounds are littered with tents and domesticated creatures.

My Harry looks to me for answers and I know not what to say except,

"I am a wizard."


	2. Interlude: My Misery

"_Scrooge fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face. _

'_Mercy!' he said. 'Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?' _

'_Man of the worldly mind!' replied the Ghost, 'do you believe in me or not?' _

'_I do,' said Scrooge. 'I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and why do they come to me?'_

'_It is required of every man,' the Ghost returned, 'that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world – oh, woe is me! – and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!'_ "

From: _A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens_,  
Stave One, Marley's Ghost

**T h e G h o s t s & M r. S c r o o g e**

_**Interlude**_**: My Misery**

My scowl is in place for my bi-weekly rounds of the castle halls. I give not even a hopeful twitch of my brow to anyone that I pass, and I am content that way… just as I always have been.

I know He is about to pass me minutes before he actually does. How could I possibly forget that he insists on traversing this particular hallway at the same moment that I do? He must do it to infuriate me, there is no way that he could have _not_ noticed my particular fondness for a deep scowl any time I'm forced to pass him during the day. He feels remorse, but I cannot bring myself to care an iota for him. And it has certainly become a daily ritual to lie to myself.

Daily ritual.

I mustn't let him see how he makes me hurt so; it's not in my nature, and it certainly is no concern of his even if it were so. I cannot help but to almost-glance at him as I walk on, face unmoving as stone. I point my gaze about a foot to the right of where I estimate his face to be, staring, as always, at me as we pass by one another. The crack in my musty heart lengthens another centimetre as we once again pass without a spoken word to the other. I cannot let him see what power he holds over me, it could be my undoing without my permission for it being so. I have resigned myself to my previous goal: to perish at the hands of Voldemort, having been found out a spy, but never betraying one secret of Albus' under the certain torture that would follow. It was my goal before… Harry… and it will be my goal after him. I have no reason to complain, for I have the gift of familiarity in my path forward…. Some aren't even granted that in this world.

Musty heart.

My mood is perceptibly (to me) darker than it had been in months, and I take a moment as I walk to acknowledge that. I do not spare… Harry another thought. It simply hurts too much, behind my masked face that I _always_ keep angry, where it is possible for me to feel any emotion at all that I choose to without fear of retribution or mocking or worse, concern from Albus.

Masked face.

I am startled to realize that someone is keeping pace with me, and I jerk my head to the side immediately to get a better look. Remus is following me again. I mentally growl and picture hitting the man, simultaneously beginning to actively ignore him as I continue my rounds.

"I have no time for mutts," mutters I out of the corner of my mouth, eager to make him flee my bad mood, for my own sake.

"You mustn't remain so withdrawn, Severus," insists the half-wolf walking a pace behind me.

I sneer at his concerned, knowing tone though he doesn't see it from behind me. He has been trying to get at me for the past month, offering trust and friendship that is both unwarranted and unwelcome.

His made-up caring makes me angrier than violence would. I would be more content if Remus just off and hit me in the nose than if he offered his friendship one more time. Could the man possibly get any more annoying? I mutter a couple of profanities to make my point, once again, clear. I doubt he cares though, the insufferable half-wolf.

Made-up caring.

The longer that I walk, the more aggravating his silent companionship becomes. I feel my hands clench into fists and my back become stiffer, the more irritated that I get. When we are passing the colorful windows on the fourth floor, I can stand it no longer, and I finally round angrily at my stalker.

The familiar motion comforts me, my robes moving exactly as they always have. That normalcy calms me_ just_ the slightest, but it is enough to stop me just short of wielding the rough verbal sword that I had intended to pierce the quiet man with. Instead, I growl at my hesitation and, momentum and the advantage of surprise lost, I turn back away and stomp on. Absolutely magnificent…. Harry once calmed me, and now I'm looking only for small tokens of comfort in the familiarity of my old life. I am right back where I started from, all of those years ago.

Old life.

"Severus…" repeats the mutt.

The sincerity and friendship offering in his tone make my heart hurt, but only because I have no avenues of obtaining such things, except from a man who offers it readily to anyone. Remus, the man who would help a stranger, of course offers his concern to someone he's known for years. There is no other reason, of that I am sure. I have had only one person care for me, and he no longer does. Him… and maybe Albus.

Such things.

"Leave me be, Lupin," growls I over my shoulder.

I see his shadow and mine getting farther apart in my peripheral vision and am satisfied, my back relaxing and my breathing becoming just a bit easier.

"I'll always be here, Severus… if you need—" says he.

"Yes, yes, alright," snaps I in frustration, simply eager for him to leave me the sodding _alone_.

I neither hear his footsteps behind me, nor spy his following shadow on the castle wall, and I am glad. I don't want a _pity _friend.

Daily ritual.

Musty heart.

Masked face.

Made-up caring.

Old life.

Such things.

There is simply too much to say and only one person who ever listened willingly enough without running away.

Running away.


End file.
